Pharmakon
by Frequent and Vigorous
Summary: Will dreams, Sue snarks, Emma babbles, Kurt entices, and Will and Kurt get it on in the choir room.  Intrigued?  Will/Kurt, dub-con due to consent issues.


Summary: Will dreams, Sue snarks, Emma babbles, Kurt entices, and then Will and Kurt get it on in the choir room. Intrigued?

Pairing(s): Will/Kurt

No specific spoilers; warnings limited to the dub-con associated with an adult having sex with a minor.

Disclaimer: Characters and settings are the property of FOX/Ryan Murphy.

Notes: This is even more unabashedly plotless than my last story – pretty much straight-up smut, with a little interaction between teachers for variety. If you're looking for deep character-related insight and, you know, an actual _story_, you'll be disappointed. Sorry.

This is also AU inasmuch as I didn't place it anywhere within the canon storylines. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

* * *

_**Pharmakon**_

Will chalked his first sex dream featuring Kurt Hummel up to stress, pure and simple. The end of the year was fast approaching, Figgins was making noise about cutting Glee club yet again, and it was becoming difficult to control his increasingly distracted students. He'd come down hard with Spanish assignments last week in an attempt to force them to exercise some discipline, but now he was the butt of the joke: who did he think was going to have to grade all the extra workbook pages and the unruly seniors' pop quizzes? Good intentions, flawed execution: story of his life.

With all that on his plate, plus the implosion of his romantic life, was it any surprise that his subconscious would try to alleviate some of the tension? And as to the subject of the dream, well, he was trying very hard not to dwell on that. Especially when he had to see Kurt at rehearsal, jiggling a crossed leg and trading wry glances with Mercedes at Rachel's antics. Kurt in his tight pants and bold accessories; Kurt with his wide, full mouth and all its myriad expressions; Kurt and his carefully-modulated voice, so smooth and silky when he'd moaned Will's name in his dream–

_Shit._

Ignoring the twinge in his groin following that last thought, Will glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. He'd been lying in bed rationalizing for the past fifteen minutes, gritting his teeth and waiting for the residual arousal from the dream to fade. Thankfully the alarm had interrupted things before he could make a mess of his sheets – God, how long had it been since he'd actually had a wet dream? It was like being fifteen again – but at this rate he was barely going to have time to shower if he was going to make it to work on time.

He hauled himself out of bed and twisted the knob in the shower; the water hissed to life. He scrubbed his hair, frustrated by his continued half-hard state. Unwilling to risk going to work still riled, he started jerking himself off with a firm grip, resting the back of his head against the cool tile wall and letting his eyes flutter shut. As he knew it would, his mind drifted back unbidden to his half-remembered dream, fuzzy on the details but vivid in the sensations. He moved his hand faster, back arching, his labored breathing covering the wet slapping sound but not the dream-voice in his head.

_Yes! Oh my god, Mr. Schu, fuck yes…_

"That fucking voice," Will groaned out loud, hips jerking into his own grasp as he climaxed. He leaned against the tile for a moment, catching his breath, then shut the water off. There. Over and done with, and no need to ever think about it again.

He drove to school accompanied by staticky Journey on the radio and the constant scrape of his partially dislodged muffler. Inside the building, he hustled through the hallways – he didn't have a class until second period, but he did need to be there for his homeroom – and nearly smacked into Sue Sylvester as he rounded a corner.

"Hey there, William," the cheerleading coach said, in the falsely bright tone that proceeded an insult.

"No time, Sue," Will said impatiently. "Let me guess: you want to grease a pan with my hair and serve up pancakes in the teacher's lounge."

"Your halfhearted attempt at beating me to the punch gets a hypothetical C minus," Sue said, unfazed. "The sentiment's there but the delivery is hugely lacking. Besides, mine had more zing – eh, but that's no surprise. I'll let you in on it later, after my phoner. That's–"

"An interview by telephone, I'm aware," Will said tiredly, pushing past Sue, who let him by with a derisive chuckle.

Will ducked into his sophomore homeroom just as the bell rang; the students looked crestfallen and mumbled their "Heres" with some resentment as he took attendance. It was a relief to escape to his office once they'd dispersed; he slumped in his chair, not bothering to take out his folder of not-yet-graded assignments from his bag.

Later, when he was eating lunch in the teacher's lounge, Emma sat down across from him with concern in her doe eyes.

"Hi, Will," she said hesitantly. He smiled at her around a mouthful of his sandwich, inwardly a little exasperated that she always acted like he might launch into an anti-Carl tirade or burst into tears of rejection without warning. The ring was on her finger; it sucked – sucked _hard_ – but he had to respect her choice. Beneath the feelings of betrayal and resentment, he was happy for her.

He _was._

He swallowed his bite. "What's up, Emma?"

"Oh, not much. Just, you know, life as usual, although it's married life now and that's not so usual. Good, though. Um…"

She had the panicked look that meant she knew she was babbling, and Will was unable to resist softening; she would always be adorable. He cut in gently.

"Good to hear. Something particular on your mind, though?"

"You just seem distracted today, is all," Emma said – as usual, when she switched into counselor-mode, she grew more confident and her sentences had logical progression. "Not your usual self. I was wondering if something was bothering you, or…"

Will shrugged expansively. "Nah, just didn't sleep so well last night. Work's piling up and the kids are distracted. You know how the end of the year gets."

"Oh, sure. Yeah, absolutely." Emma nodded. "Um. So there's not something else?"

Will forced a smile. "No. But hey, thanks for asking. Are you gonna eat?"

"Actually I'm meeting Carl for lunch – he's picking me up in a few minutes," Emma said, lifting her chin as if expecting to weather some kind of protest.

"Carl doing good?" Will asked calmly.

"Yes." Emma smiled, whether at her – blech – _husband's_ good fortune or Will's lack of antagonism he wasn't sure. "He has some new patients, so he's been talking a lot about molars and bicuspids and palate expanders."

"Booming business. Good for him."

Will really hoped he hadn't sounded resentful just then, because it wasn't that he was resentful – he just didn't care about Carl, and disinterest could sound like resentment. Or something.

"Yeah. But I should probably…" she gestured towards the door, looking apologetic.

"Have a nice lunch," he told her.

"Thanks – and I'm glad you're doing okay. I mean, today, that you're not upset about something or other. I'm – bye, Will." She cut herself off, looking embarrassed.

"Take care, Emma," he half-laughed. He finished his sandwich quickly, aware of the curious and somewhat pitying glances from his colleagues, and retreated to his office again to wait it out until fifth period.

It wasn't typical for him to be _glad_ there wasn't Glee practice, but today he welcomed the respite. The odd start to his morning and now the awkwardness with Emma had gotten him into a funk, and he didn't want to think about what Kurt's actual presence might do to him when he was so out of it.

Not that Kurt's presence _should_ affect him, even after – well, at all. Ever. Which it didn't.

Tight pants nonwithstanding.

…Wait.

"William!" Sue yelled as soon as he left his office; she claimed not to know where his office was, but had somehow managed to lie in wait. She sauntered over to him with a pleased smirk. "I said I'd deliver and here it is: I'm asking you with all respect to take some shears to that hedge you call a hairstyle – I keep expecting little singing gnomes to pop out of it and frankly, the visual puts me off my protein shakes."

Will gave her a weary look, and she grinned smugly.

"Go ahead, you can admit it – that was _much _better than yours. Pancakes, Will? As if I don't have gourmet chefs on speed dial who can provide my breakfast for me?"

Will sighed. "Fine, Sue – you win. Gnomes. Hilarious."

"You got that right, buddy." Sue clapped him on the shoulder and strode away. Will stood in the hallway for a moment, like a rock in the river of students milling around him, then shook himself and headed for his classroom.

When the final bell rang, Will was hard-pressed to remember a day he'd been more relieved to see end. He hustled across the parking lot toward his car, only for a familiar, lilting voice to call out and root him to the spot.

"Mr. Schu!"

Will swallowed hard and turned. "Kurt."

The slender boy's guilty expression was at odds with his usual impeccable attire. Today it was a slouchy grey sweater that looked like it cost more than all of Will's clothes combined, skin-hugging (of course) black jeans, and black boots with chunky soles. The wide neck of the sweater gaped to one side of Kurt's neck, exposing a pale swath of shoulder. Since when did Kurt not wear at least two layers? Will quickly tore his eyes away from that spot, concentrating on Kurt's face.

"Mr. Schu," Kurt repeated, "I'm glad I caught you, but I'm afraid I can't make it to rehearsal tomorrow."

"What?" Will was immediately indignant. "Why not?"

"Coach Sylvester called a mandatory Cheerios practice."

"Ohh!" Will groaned, a disgusted expression twisting his features. "Of course. Just perfect," he muttered, and ran a hand through his curly and apparently hedge-like hair. Then, noting Kurt's somewhat alarmed expression, said, "I'm sorry, Kurt – it's fine if you miss one practice. You've been to all the others."

"Thanks, Mr. Schu," Kurt said, sounding breathless with relief – typical dramatics.

"Okay. We'll miss you," Will said, already starting to back up. That breathy voice was making him feel wide-awake in areas he _definitely_ shouldn't.

"I can make up the missed practice," Kurt said, stepping forward to resume his original distance from Will. "How about the next day after school? We can just go over the songs I missed."

"I–" _Bad idea_, his mind whispered. _Excuse me, I'm his _teacher_, I can handle this_, his idiotic pride answered. "Sure, Kurt. Thursday – how about 4:30? I'll need time to get things in order after my last period class."

"Great," Kurt said, smiling. "See you then."

Will muttered his goodbye and hurriedly spun around, half-jogging to his car. He managed to avoid thinking about what he'd just gotten himself into until he shut the door to his apartment, then he raked his hands through his hair and cursed.

Now what? What if Thursday rolled around and he still hadn't quite banished the dream from his mind? How was he going to have a one-on-one session with Kurt, listen to him _sing_, for God's sake, if the boy's voice still affected him like a physical caress?

More to the point, where the fuck was all this coming from? It wasn't that Kurt was a boy – he was hardly the first guy Will had fantasized about. And it wasn't that Kurt was unattractive, either, but that didn't mean Will had been walking around _wanting_ him. The tension when Kurt challenged his authority in Glee club, as if he was being taken to task by a peer; his visceral response to his student's knowing expressions that were too mature for his fresh, innocent face – that wasn't…

Was it?

Couldn't be.

That night his subconscious respectfully disagreed. Kurt was waiting for him in his bedroom, smoothing the front of his fitted, asymmetrical jacket, one hip cocked like the corner of his smirking mouth. Will didn't hesitate; he lavished his attention on that mouth, coaxed those sweet, breathy moans from Kurt's throat that drove him crazy. He pulled off Kurt's jacket and pressed his lips to the glorious expanse of soft skin he uncovered; already hard, he pushed himself into Kurt's hand, which the younger man had slipped down the front of Will's pants.

The dream threw jumbled and tantalizing images at Will: Kurt sprawled beneath him on the mattress, mouth open and eyes fluttering; Kurt's hand around Will's cock, jerking him off rhythmically; Kurt's hands clutching at the blankets above his head as Will pushed into tight, hot heaven…

And all through it, the musical sound of Kurt's moans and curses and pleas that turned Will on almost more than the actual feeling of skin against skin.

This time Will did soak his sheets, struggling into consciousness even as he bucked his hips against the mattress and spilled into and through his boxer shorts.

"God_dam_mit!" Will's yell was muffled by his pillow.

Thursday afternoon came altogether too quickly. Hard to believe that two days ago Will had actually been yearning for the last bell to ring. Now he felt a stab of unease as the grating sound ripped through the room, scattering his students. Will trudged to his office, almost wishing Sue would pop up and distract him with another hair joke. Of course, when he could have stood her presence, the Cheerios coach made herself scarce. Typical.

Will watched his office clock with growing dread, even contemplated asking Emma to sit in on Kurt's make-up rehearsal. Only the horror of having to explain why dissuaded him, so he grimly watched the minute hand inch toward the half-hour mark.

Kurt was already in the choir room when Will arrived, and didn't notice his teacher at first; he was bent over a textbook, murmuring a steady stream of what sounded like French. Will hovered in the doorway for a moment, letting the elegant syllables wash over him, but Kurt soon reached the end of the passage he'd been reading and glanced up. He looked startled to see Will just standing there.

"Oh, Mr. Schu – I didn't see you. I was just getting some homework out of the way."

"French?" Will wished his voice didn't sound quite so hoarse as he moved further into the room. Brad the ever-present pianist was conspicuously absent. Kurt nodded.

"We're translating "The Little Prince.' I like to practice my accent when I do the reading."

"Uh. Sounds great," Will said, aiming for casual. Kurt gave him an urbane smile.

"Thank you. Shall we get started?"

"Right. Um…so yesterday we actually did a lot of ensemble work. I'm actually not so sure how to make that up in a private – in a one-on-one session. Since…there's only one of you." God, Will could be as bad as Emma when he really let himself go. Kurt was giving him a dubious look.

"So….what did you have in mind, then?"

Kurt quirked an eyebrow as he let the question slide lazily off his tongue, and damn if it didn't sound suggestive; to his horror, Will swallowed audibly. Was he sweating? He was definitely sweating. Kurt's eyebrow inched higher until he was giving him more or less the same look he had when Will had started shouting about the Glist.

"I – actually Kurt, I'm not feeling so well today," Will said quickly, turning toward the piano as if examining the sheet music he'd laid out. "I'm not sure if rehearsal's the best idea right now."

"I can see that," Kurt said, and the chair creaked as he got up. Will tightened his grip on the edge of the piano, bracing himself.

"Mr. Schu, why don't you sit down?" Kurt's voice was at his ear, and then his hand was grasping Will's forearm. Even when Will visibly tensed at the contact, Kurt kept his hand in place. "Come on."

Kurt half-pushed him into one of the chairs, then – _Christ_ – bent so that his face was level with Will's.

"How exactly do you feel ill? Should I get the nurse?"

His breath was light and warm on Will's face.

"No," Will said softly. Kurt was looking at him intently, his gaze never wavering. His expression didn't look like that of someone checking for sickness – or even of someone that concerned.

"I didn't really think so," Kurt breathed. "So what _do _you need?"

Will briefly entertained the thought that he was dreaming now; it would explain why Kurt suddenly sounded like he was reciting lines in a predictable porno. The younger man's eyes were dark; without breaking his gaze, his tongue darted out to moisten his lips, and Will stifled a groan.

"No one else would have to know," Kurt said pointedly, and something sparked violently in Will's brain. He seized the lapels of Kurt's designer blazer and pulled him forward to crush their lips together. Kurt sighed against Will's mouth and let Will kiss him hungrily; soon he pulled away from Kurt's lips to mouth along his jaw. Kurt balanced himself on the plastic chair, just managing to straddle Will's thighs, and arched his neck back so that Will could nip across his throat.

"Oh," Kurt gasped as Will sucked at the base of his smooth neck. "Oh, that's good."

Will didn't waste time maneuvering around Kurt's blazer. With a few twists he had the buttons open and pushed it off Kurt's shoulders; he wore a filmy dress shirt beneath that whispered against Will's fingertips. He massaged Kurt's nipples, which he could feel stiffening beneath the tissue-thin fabric, and Kurt's "_Ohhh_" was _exactly_ like Will's dream, and the sound of it sent a thin line of heat straight down to Will's groin. He pushed his hands up under the shirt, moaning himself at the strange mix of softness and muscle that was Kurt's torso. Kurt was clasping the back of Will's chair, his arms trembling slightly with the effort of holding himself upright. Will eased Kurt off him, standing up and walking both of them to the piano.

The small of Kurt's back struck the instrument's edge and Will used the leverage to grind their hips together. Kurt moaned incoherently into his ear, already rubbing his hard front erratically against Will's pelvis.

"Wait," Will gasped, shifting slightly away, and Kurt whined, "_No_, God, please – don't stop yet."

"Just for a minute," Will insisted, mollifying Kurt with a trail of kisses down his still-clothed chest. Kurt squirmed agreeably under the attention, reaching up to undo the buttons as Will's lips passed them. Will made an appreciative noise at the back of his throat, kissing his way back up to a hard nipple and teasing it with his tongue. He placed a palm over the bulge at Kurt's crotch, pressing gently.

"_Fuck!_" Kurt ground out, in a deep throaty tone Will had never heard from him before, and jerked his hips forward into Will's touch.

"I want you so bad," Will breathed, sounding surprised at his own admission. He knelt and rested his forehead against Kurt's hip, pressing harder into Kurt's erection and massaging. Kurt made a noise like a sob above him.

"Please – Mr. Schu – _Will_…"

"Oh fuck, Kurt – keep talking," Will moaned, and undid the button and zipper of Kurt's fly; Kurt shuddered as Will drew his pants and briefs down past his hips, his exposed member bobbing slightly between his legs.

"Oh God, oh God," Kurt panted. A quick glance at his face revealed his eyes were clenched shut, his lips red from their earlier kisses and wet as though he'd been licking them. Pale fluid was already gathering at the tip of Kurt's cock; Will rubbed his thumb over it and Kurt wailed, beyond words. Will did a quick mental review – paper towels in the supply cabinet – and took Kurt's cock in his grasp. He got in maybe two strokes before Kurt nearly bent backwards over the piano.

"Ah, ahh, ahh," he moaned as Will continued to stroke him through his climax, until Kurt was twisting and whimpering instead of thrusting into his touch. Will released Kurt's cock and stroked a hand over his bare hip. The boy was trembling, fully relying on the piano to keep him upright.

The first thing Kurt said when he'd recovered his breath was, "If Rachel knew, she'd never twirl around this piano again."

Will was startled into laughter, and Kurt sank down onto the floor next to him; his eyes were still dark.

"I think it's your turn," he said, and Will was abruptly reminded of his own aching arousal as Kurt drew down his zipper in a quick, precise motion.

"I've thought about this," Kurt said, almost dreamy, fingers toying maddeningly with the waistband of Will's boxers. "So much. Lie back."

Will did as ordered, surprised into a thin moan when, instead of gripping his cock or sucking on it as Will thought he would, Kurt stretched on top of him, wriggling until their bare genitals touched. Kurt was soft at first, but as he rocked his hips against Will's he began to get hard again – youthful ability. Kurt's lips pressed and sucked at Will's neck, trailed somewhat clumsily along his jawline, kisses frequently interrupted by gasps of pleasure. He pushed Will's shirt up to the top of his chest so that their skin touched as much as possible. Will groaned at the heat and contact and clutched at Kurt's ass, grinding into him harder. In an effort to get Kurt vocal again, Will reached lower, grazing Kurt's sac.

Kurt cried out, "God, yes – there!" and bucked harder into Will, and Will massaged the area carefully, drawing more and more delighted sounds out of the boy on top of him. Will, meanwhile, had abandoned trying to control his reaction to Kurt's movement on top of him – he rubbed back without rhythm, with graceless jerks, lost in the sound of Kurt's voice and the silky feel of their skin together, until he abruptly convulsed, sticky wetness coating both their stomachs. Kurt continued moving for a few minutes longer, until he stiffened on top of Will with another wail, more milky liquid pooling on their skin.

Will could feel Kurt's smile against his shoulder.

"Amazing," the boy sighed. "So good."

He lifted his head to search Will's face. "Are you all right?"

"Y-Yeah," Will said, breath labored. "But how…?"

"Mr. Schu, it's painfully obvious that you haven't had many relationships. You have no idea how to hide your interest."

If Kurt's tone hadn't been so light, cheerful, even, that might have stung.

"So? Did I cure what ailed you?" Kurt continued; his post-coital smugness could give Sue's self-congratulation a run for its money. Will decided not to bring that up.

As to Kurt's question, he had no idea how to answer it. Weren't the cure and the poison sometimes the same thing?

* * *

End Notes: Right, so my inner Classics nerd reared its head a bit with the title and ending – _pharmakon_, a Greek word that can mean both medicine and poison, hence Will's closing thought.

God, I hope this wasn't too OOC; it felt right at the edge to me, especially Will's acceptance of Kurt's convenient willingness. I think canon Will would have struggled a lot more with the idea – I went with it for the sake of the smut, but I'm doubtful that makes for good writing.

Regarding that, any feedback you might have for me would be much-appreciated. This time around I tried easing some other characters into the mix, but I have even less experience writing Sue and Emma than I do at writing Will and Kurt, so if there's something I could improve, let me know. Review or not, I hope you enjoyed it – thanks for reading!


End file.
